


Jillian Holtzmann, Ph.D.

by crotch_centric



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, almost entirely dialogue, because i got lazy, for erin's child with phil, holtzmann is a child therapist, mental health, no smut this time sry, not even sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-01-29 05:52:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12624624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crotch_centric/pseuds/crotch_centric
Summary: Erin and Phil have recently divorced and Erin has been taking their 8 year old son to therapy. The therapist wants to get to know the mother of her patient as an insight to the child. Also, because she thinks Erin is cute and is just curious about her life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, first off you guys I had this idea before SNL made Kate a therapist. I’m prophetic af.
> 
> If you don't care for a lot of dialogue just read something else because this is almost entirely conversation.
> 
> Also, I split it into chapters more as checkpoints. It all flows in the same conversation though.

“Please, have a seat.” She gestured towards the couch and did not seat herself until the other woman was comfortable on the couch- comfortable is an overstatement- until she was sitting, acting comfortable, and seemed to be waiting for the psychologist to speak. “So tell me about  _ you.” _

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“To understand Jameson, it will help if I can understand you. You’re his mother and family dynamic is very important at this age.” She was soft-spoken as not to disturb the child playing with toys at the other end of the room. Her words were very matter-of-fact, but the redhead read it as defensiveness in response to her own.

 

“Um, okay. Well I am a professor of theoretical particle physics at Columbia. I am currently up for tenure, which probably has upped my stress recently, even though I shouldn’t have anything to worry about. I publish articles regularly and have won many prestigious awards. I dress professionally too, although my supervisor has made vague comments. Which is stupid. Just because I’m a woman, he has to point out my appearance. I doubt he ever did that to Phil. Anyway, I met Jameson’s father in this department, so not only do we have a child together, we are also colleagues. Which is kind of a weird extra wrench through the divorce because we see each other almost every day.” She looked up to meet the intense eyes of the other woman to see if she should continue.

 

The blonde didn’t write anything down, but instead was simply watching the woman carefully, as if she was trying to count how many times she blinked or picked at her cuticles. “Please continue,” she prompted.

 

“Um, Jameson has always had nervous tendencies. He is restless. But it wasn’t until I moved out and he has been moving back and forth between Phil’s place and mine that he started acting out and getting overwhelmed and we decided to bring him here. Actually, when I say ‘we’ I mean me. Phil thought this was unnecessary, in addition to many things I do.” Erin sank down on the couch and sulked in defeat. She noticed the blonde check her watch under her glasses. “Oh you have other patients. I will get out of here. I’ll bring Jameson back next week, same time?”

 

“Yes, next week- same time. Doctor Gilbert, would you be interested in getting coffee or lunch sometime before then?” She figured suggesting therapy for herself would be too forward and would cause the other woman to get defensive or shut down.

 

“Okay, sure. Yeah. I’ll call or email you later.”

 

“Are you free Sunday?” Waiting for contact from Erin who likely would overthink it and stress herself out was not something the therapist wanted to do. She figured being direct would save some grief and assure Erin would show up.

 

“Uh, I should be. Jameson is going to his grandparents this weekend. Brunch? 11:00?”

 

“Sounds good. Miam Manger Cafe?”

 

“Sure thing. I’ll see you there!”

 

\---

 

Erin woke up at 7:30 to ensure she had enough time to get ready and show up before the time they discussed. She was telling herself she was dressed casual, but the outfit she was wearing would have disagreed. It was definitely a step up from a truly casual grocery store outfit. A meeting with your child’s psychologist is semi-professional and she didn’t want to feel foolish.

 

Dr. Holtzmann’s strategy was the complete opposite. She dressed down extra to establish the casual setting. She was wearing a button-up over a band t-shirt. Her hair was in a much messier bun than she would have done for work, and she opted for contacts instead of her “doctor glasses.”

 

She knew Erin would be early, but wanted ensure the power was in the redhead’s hands, so she intentionally arrived a few minutes late.

 

“Hey there. Happy Sunday! How’s it goin?” She shuffled herself into the chair across the table and took off her jacket.

 

“Oh it’s going. Sunday’s are cleaning days, so I got up early this morning and cleaned my apartment.”

 

“Damn, props to you, Doctor Gilbert. There’s no possible way I could clean my entire apartment before 11 on a Sunday. I’d be lying to you if I said I got up before 10:20. But hey, I made it!”

 

Immediately after revealing what time she got up, she realized the other woman was likely to interpret that as not being a priority. “And I’m sure glad I did!” She flashed a toothy grin, causing the older woman to fidget. “What do you say, shall we get some treats?” She prompted, gesturing towards the counter.

 

“Of course.”

 

Dr. Holtzmann took initiative and got in line first, already knowing what she was going to order. Well, not entirely- but she knew her strategy.

 

“What’s your favorite thing? I’ll get that, and whatever she’s getting.”

 

“Alright, one almond chai tea latte coming up. And a…” she paused as she turned to Erin, who was clearly still undecided, “But I do have to ask, are you ever disappointed with what you get?”

 

“I try not to think of it as disappointment. That seems too harsh. I like to think of it as refining my likes and dislikes. Making categories of ‘yum,’ ‘good enough,’ and ‘not again.’”

 

“Seems legit.” She smiled before she turned to the indecisive woman, still browsing the menu. “Do you have any questions, miss?”

 

“Um, probably. There’s just so many options.”

 

“Haha, we actually just cut down our menu by almost half, but yeah, there’s still a lot of options. What do you like?”

 

“Mmmm, I don’t know.”  _ Story of my life, right. _

 

“Wellll, what don’t you like? Let’s start there.”

 

Erin chuckled at how complicated she was making this. “Uh, not too sweet and not too much caffeine.”

 

“You would probably like our royal milk tea. Some people really like it with cinnamon on top.”

 

“Sure, I’ll try that.”

 

“Alright, so one almond chai tea latte and one royal milk tea with cinnamon. Any bakery items with that?”

 

“What do you recommend?”

 

“Our muffins are really good. I always have one of those as my free item for my shift. The cranberry walnut and chocolate peanut butter are my favorites.”

 

“Sure, one of each.” She handed over a twenty before Erin could even try to dig through her wallet.

 

“Oh, no. Mine is separate.”

 

“It’s too late,” she said with a soft smile. “Plus, I invited you out, so this one’s on me.”

 

“Oh, well thank you.”

 

They sat down across from each other, picking at both halves of the muffins they split and sipping at their still-too-hot drinks.

 

Dr. Holtzmann was unphased by the silence, and seemed comfortable in it. Erin, on the other hand was visibly uncomfortable, but didn’t know what to say either. She fidgeted in her social anxiety and was making small comments, narrating what she was doing.

 

“Ouch! Yup, still too hot. She wasn’t lying about these muffins though. They are stellar. Hm, the decor in here is pretty cozy too. I wouldn’t think painting the walls dark like this would give it such a relaxed ambiance- you almost expect it to be dreary, but it’s nice.”

 

_ She used sure as an adverb, as I did earlier. She’s mimicking my language. She’s trying to be comfortable with me. _

 

She cleared her throat before continuing, “Khm, well not that I mind it. The color in your office is also a little dark. Taupe, is it? I like it.” _ Way to shove your foot in your mouth, good job. _ “I’m also kind of sensitive to light, so it helps me focus and not be over-stimulated.”  _ Okay, stop rambling. _

 

“Yes, it is taupe. I’m impressed- you sure know your neutrals! It’s my favorite earth tone.” She laughed, “Well that certainly make me sound like a nerd.”

 

A smile cracked across the other woman’s face, “Well I’ve definitely watched my fair share of HGTV and Extreme Makeover Home Edition. But I may have been a little biased cause I used to have a huge crush on Ty Pennington.”

 

“Haha, I could see that. He’s a pretty charming dude. I always got kind of a gay vibe from him though, to be honest.”

 

“That wouldn’t surprise me. I’ve always been attracted to more feminine men. Is that weird?”

 

“No. Definitely not weird. Just a preference.”

 

“Hm, I wonder why that is though. What do you think?”

 

“That’s like asking why a child why they’d rather have chocolate ice cream than vanilla. Sometimes it’s just a preference. If you don’t feel like it’s natural, or like it’s been influenced by something else, that’s also possible.”

 

“Like what?”

 

She had tried leaving the comment vague enough that Erin wouldn’t be forced to confront things about herself. But since she’s the one pushing…

 

“Well, femininity can be broken down in many ways. I guess we would have to look at what aspect of feminine men you’re drawn to. Is it because they’re better at discussing matters instead of getting defensive? More emotionally available? Less threatening to gender norms? Do you feel like you have an underlying need to be cared for- and in that seeking some sort of maternal partner? Or something that isn’t directly related- like you are attracted to intelligence, humor, and compassion which isn’t necessarily the top quality in real ‘masculine’ muscle-men and tends to be more stereotypically associated with smaller, ‘weaker,’ and therefore more ‘feminine’ men. Using society’s definitions, not my own.”

 

“Wow. I’ve never thought of it that way. You’re really good at analyzing people.”

 

“Haha, I’d sure hope so. I went to school for 10 years for it.”

 

“Oh, um,” she squirmed again in her chair, “I don’t mean for this to-”

 

“Erin. Doctor Gilbert-”

 

“Erin,” she corrected.

 

“Erin, don’t worry about it. This is casual; it’s not a session. I don’t feel  _ used _ by you in any way. Thinking like this comes naturally to me and really, if we’re being honest, I prefer conversations like this because I don’t feel the pressure that I’m not doing enough when I’m getting paid.”

 

“Okay. Thank you.” Her weight settled into her chair. “Wait, you still fear being insufficient as a therapist?”

 

“Of course. Absolutely. Even though I’m trained to read people and offer insights doesn’t mean some people aren’t difficult to read or want to be there at all.”

 

“Yeah, I suppose. It just doesn’t seem like someone with your qualifications and experience would worry like that. You’re very conscientious about creating a safe, comfortable, and open environment for your clients. Not only just the physical space. It’s your persona too.”

 

“Thank you, Erin. Truly.”

 

“But really, do you have a trick? Did you burn sage or something to ward off demons and ghosts? Have you mastered the feng-shui?”

 

“Haha, I actually do burn sage. I don’t know if you were joking or not, but I definitely do believe in spirits and energies. I don’t know if I would go as far to say I believe in ghosts like Casper, but there’s definitely something beyond the barrier.”

 

“What do you mean by barrier? That terminology makes it seem like it can be crossed or broken.”

 

“Barrier as in how we understand our physical environment. Like what’s beyond our 5 senses. That we’re not quite capable of perceiving but have some evidence of existing.”

 

“Like dark matter?”

 

“Of sorts, I suppose. And things like intuition and deja-vu.”

 

“How about consciousness? Science still doesn’t really know how to explain that.”

 

“Exactly. The way we think shapes our emotions and experience of memories and being alive. But kind of abstractly off that, the energies we allow ourselves to absorb and emit also can do that. It’s like Oprah’s whole thing with the energy you give is the energy you receive. But also training ourselves how to reflect in ourselves and understand that there are reasons for how we think and behave. And when we can pin-point possible causes, it shifts the burden of shame and guilt away from our direct self. You know?”

 

“Oh for sure! I would agree with that wholeheartedly. I feel like I get that, theoretically. It’s just a matter of putting it into practice. Kind of like physics haha. I’ve always been better at honing down the abstract ‘what-if’s than implementing the pragmatic side. Which I guess could translate into: I’m really good at over-thinking things and being critical.”

 

“It’s definitely important. Practical people can’t be practical without ideas developed enough to execute. But when that detail-oriented, efficiency-driven side of you seeps into your sense of self, it can be very destructive.”

 

“I am well aware. So do you think being conscious of those habits is enough to help?”

 

“It’s the first step. It’s difficult to break habits- especially if you’ve lived like this your entire life. But it can still be done. It’s a matter of retraining how you think until you don’t jump to negative conclusions right away and forgive yourself for mistakes instead of dwelling in them.”

 

“Oh god. That sounds exhausting.”

 

“It is.”

 

“But worth it?”

 

“You got it.”


	2. Chapter 2

“So, Jillian- is it okay if I call you that?”

 

“Sure. Although when I’m not ‘Dr. Holtzmann,’ I usually just go by Holtz. But either is fine.”

 

“Holtz.”  _ Why is that so charming?  _ “Do you ever regret blindly ordering what the barista recommends?”

 

“Ha, regret is a strong word. I always trust the barista’s recommendations. I assume they’ve tried almost everything on the menu and the amount of things I’ve ordered that I wouldn’t get again are minimal compared to how many times I’ve done that.”

 

“I’ve never tried that- I’d rather figure it out on my own. I can be picky and I know my tastes better than anyone, right?” She paused as she looked down to her fingers dissecting what was left of the treat in front of her. “I suppose that could just be my inability to trust other people’s judgement, huh. What do you think?”

 

“Well I know that if you are disappointed with your drink, you’re going to blame your own bad judgment. If I’m disappointed with my drink, I can attribute it to the fact that the barista’s tastes are different than my own. It’s a lot less negative process in the end.”

 

“That’s incredibly logical. In some weird twisted way. Were you also that student who wouldn’t study because then they had a reason to blame if they didn’t do well?”

 

“Hahah. Only a few times. If you study and fail, you’re disappointed. If you study and do well or don’t study and fail, you meet expectations. If you don’t study and do well, you’re overjoyed. The payoffs would say that not studying is the best route, right?” She asked rhetorically with a wink.

 

“Well, not if you’re trying to get a PhD in physics. Or really any doctoral degree.”

 

“Yeah, I know. I’m just messin’ with you. I only used that justification after a messy breakup in my undergrad years. Then I rediscovered my love for learning and never had to compensate like that again.”

 

“Oh no, what happened?”

 

“Just a typical first-love, very needy, unhealthy relationship. We met second semester of freshman year when she moved to a dorm down the hall. We were long-distance and desperate to be together over the summer. Moved in together sophomore year, and broke up during Thanksgiving a few months into it. Like I said, total mess.”

 

“Sounds like it. I never really dated as an undergrad. I never felt like I even had time to breathe, let alone invest into another person. Plus, anytime I tried to date a guy, I felt like he only ever cared about the physical aspect of the relationship. I just wanted a close partner. Someone to study with, go out to eat with, ask me about my day, and make me laugh.”

 

“Ha, sounds like you wanted a girlfriend.”

 

“Haha. I guess. It only took a few failed men to focus on friendships instead. But then as we were graduating, most of them were in serious relationships, got married and had kids. So I went right into grad school, alone. Which is when I met Phil in my program. And now that I think of it, I think we got together more because I didn’t have anyone else than actually liking him.”

 

“You’d be surprised at how many relationships I’ve seen that start out of a mix of convenience and not wanting to be alone. They generally lead to unhappy marriages or divorce.”

 

“Ugh god, he’s awful though. How did I not notice it sooner?”

 

“You can’t blame yourself. Many  _ many _ women don’t realize they’re in toxic relationships until well after.” She leaned forward and placed her hand on top of Erin’s. “I’m so proud of you for initiating your freedom. It takes a lot of courage to leave what you’re used to and step into a world of uncertainties.”

 

“But learning and progress is on the boundary of the comfort zone.”

 

“It sure is. And it may not be easy, but I’m excited for you to get in tune with yourself and rediscover what it means to be free and autonomous.”

 

“Me too. It’s about damn time haha. Really though, in hindsight he was never good to me. I think you hit the nail on the head with where convenience meets fear of being alone. Plus, there was something about meeting him that just made me feel at home.”

 

“Are you close with your parents?”

 

This question was obviously more for Erin’s sake than Holtz’s.

 

“I don’t know. I talk to them regularly, but I don’t ever bring up personal stuff unless they directly ask. They’re a very stereotypical conservative, white, small town, upper-middle class, midwestern family. So they don’t generally have the most open of minds. If they’re ever confronted with anything that’s different from how they live it’s automatically judged and treated as less than. But they don’t mean it like that. They just live how they grew up- sheltered. And I identified close to them for a long time, until I decided to move to NYC. Well, not even. I decided to come here for grad school because I could not pass up the opportunity. And it took me living here for a few months alone before I realized all the bullshit that clouded my judgement growing up.”

 

“That sounds tense. Generally people like that, from what you described, are not incredibly supportive when their children need it. It’s almost from kind of an entitled point of view, but by disregarding the privilege they were born into.”

 

“Oh that’s exactly it. And there was a constant feeling that nothing I ever did was good enough. They would try to make it seem like they were joking, but it wasn’t about the tone. It was about the words.”

 

“Does anything specific come to mind?”

 

“Okay, so the summer after I graduated undergrad, I moved home because my lease was up at the end of the semester. Obviously, I didn’t want to apply for real jobs because I was going back to school. Instead, I just worked a few different temp jobs on campus, for about a month each. Well I had just worked two different ones back to back and didn’t have another one lined up. I was home, unemployed, for three days before I started hearing comments like ‘Oh, Erin what did you do all day? Did you find a job yet? You couldn’t even wash the dishes you ate off, are you fucking kidding? We work 8-5 jobs, you’re living here without paying rent. It’s unrealistic to expect us to be your housemaid too.’ I’m trying to find a job, that bowl is mine, but everything else was my brother’s and his girlfriend’s. But they never got blamed.”

 

“That’s horrible. Sounds like you had to pay to live there, even if it wasn’t monetary.”

 

“Too bad they didn’t accept ‘emotionally draining’ as payment, haha. Oh! But other times- like if I was ever lounging without a shirt on, my dad would walk up to me, pinch my stomach, laugh, and say, ‘what’s this?’ And really, it didn’t bother me all too much. I know my worth is more than not having a six pack, but it’s just the implications behind it that really irritate me.”

 

“Oh of course. First, it’s sexist. I’m sure he didn’t do that to your brother. Second, it implies that you are less than what he sees as ideal. And third, the way he joked about it shows that he has no idea the weight sexism has in our society. I’m sorry that happened.”

 

“Thanks. I don’t know why I never called him out on it. I probably would have gotten told that I’m ‘too sensitive’ and not to take things too seriously.”

 

“You can only brush off things like that off so many times before it starts to build up. It’s hard to want to spend time with people who are so ignorant about other people.”

 

“Right? But I would get so lonely not having friends that I would sit out in the shared rooms to try to be around my family but then I would get lectured about anything and everything they decided to bitch about. So then I would retreat to my room and try to find solace with strangers on the internet, but that never is as comforting as you hope.”

 

“Nope, never is. Do you feel like Phil has a lot of those mannerisms too?”

 

“Oh of course. I’m always who he vents his frustrations to, but if I ever want to talk about anything going on in my life it’s just me being dramatic, or pushing a sob story, or again being ‘too sensitive’ about ‘petty matters.’ So yeah, I guess Phil really did feel like home.”

 

“Change is scary, but familiarity can be a curse.”

 

“I’m going to get that tattooed on my hand as a constant reminder. Haha. Just kidding. But anyway, enough about me. Tell me something about you.”

 

“Hahah, any special requests? Story from childhood, weird quirks of mine, self-discovery, past life? Anything?”

 

“Well, you’ve certainly peaked my curiosity. Worst job you ever had? Tell me something that makes you feel like a real person, not like some wizard guru.”

 

“Erin, I don’t know if you’re mistaken, but I  _ am  _ a wizard guru.”

 

Her reaction was somewhere between a sarcastic “fuck you” and “yeah, I know.”

 

“Okay, here’s a fun fact. Guess what I did before I decided to go back to school.”

 

“Probably volunteered building schools in third-world countries while playing guitar and singing the children to sleep.”

 

“Well, that was only for a summer.”

 

Same look. “Of course.”

 

“I was a party clown.”

 

“You were not.”

 

“I was.”

 

“Like a clown? With the nose, and the face paint, and a unicycle? Can you juggle and make balloon animals too?”

 

“Yep, the whole shebang. I’m a woman of many talents.” She said it with a wink, causing a flustered reaction in the other woman.

 

“...why? Did you lose a bet?”

 

“Haha, no. It was all voluntary. At the time I knew I loved kids. And it came pretty naturally. So I figured until I found a deeper passion, I would have fun making kids laugh.”

 

“Alright, that’s actually pretty cute. How long did you do this?”

 

“I started it in the middle of my sophomore year- right after the breakup. Who wouldn’t want to hire a sad lesbian clown? Anyway, I went into school in the sociology program, but took a child psych class in the spring of my second year and decided psychology was also very interesting. So I added psychology as a major as well.”

 

“You took one class and added an entire degree?”

 

“Well- not entirely. I double majored. It’s slightly less classes than two full degrees. But yes, one class was all I needed to realize that I loved it.”

 

“Damn. It took me years of confusion to get where I am.”

 

“Career-wise, you mean?”

 

“Yeah. I guess I always delved into my studies because it was the only thing I could do better than my brother. He was tall, and fit, and coordinated, and social. He was on every sports team he could be on. He could talk to anyone about anything. Everybody loved him.”

 

“That’s all in past tense.” A simple observation.   
  


“Yeah, well he definitely peaked in high school. That’s horrible to say, isn’t it? He used to be kind of a prick, but I guess now that he’s out in the world he’s gotten better. He’s making his way back up.”

 

“What’s he doing now?”

 

“What is he doing now… I think he’s doing sales? Selling furniture or cars or something, I don’t know. He’s good at what he does and he seems to like it. But man, I would dread having a job like that. The whole being forced to interact with people- no thanks. Plus, I would get bored doing the same stuff every day.”

 

“Yeah well this is full circle to pragmatic vs idea people. You and I are idea people, where your brother likes being social in the surface-level interactions. That’s fine, too.”

 

“I know. I get that. It’s just difficult growing up in an environment where your brother is praised for being himself and you are always asked why you’re not more like him and that you should go out with his friends and be social and all that kind of bullshit.”

  
“Did you wish you were more like that?”

 

“Sometimes. I knew it would have been easier. But I feel like the more my family, or people in general, pushed me to be more extroverted, the more I retreated to isolation. I always had an excuse to not be social- usually it was homework. I started to believe it and believed being intelligent was the only thing I could be proud of.”

 

“You still enjoyed learning though, right? Or do you feel like the pressure to do well in school took over your desire to learn and ask questions?”

 

“Yeah I guess. To both. I just wish I had allowed myself to explore other things I was interested in too. I got to the point where if I wasn’t doing something immediately productive, I would feel guilty for not preparing myself for my future, even if I enjoyed it.”

 

“So you stopped enjoying things you previously had because you felt guilty?”

  
“Yeah, like if I ever wanted to read a book in the humanities or learn a new song on piano or watch comedies, I would think about the time I could be spending advancing myself in my field. I still would do things I enjoyed, it just became my method of guilty procrastinating.”

 

“That doesn’t sound healthy. Any time you spend that makes you happy is not time wasted.”

 

“I know. Another one of those things that I get the idea, just putting it into practice is another story.”

 

“Erin, I’m going to ask you a question. Don’t feel like you have to answer it right away, or even at all, okay?”

 

“Sure.”


	3. Chapter 3

“How do you want to be remembered?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“If you were to get hit by a bus on your way home today, what aspects about you would you want people you know to remember?”

 

“Umm. That’s a really good question. Probably that the reason I have a successful career is because I’ve always worked really hard. That I was a good mother for Jameson, giving him the opportunities and encouragement he needed growing up as much as I could. I want people to remember me as witty, but never petty. That I gave everyone a fair chance and saw them genuinely as people. I don’t know- that’s a really hard question.”

 

“It is. It’s one of my favorite exercises to give people because it’s helps with being accountable to yourself. Because now that you verbalized that, you’re going to be thinking about it and anytime you do something that doesn’t align with those, you’ll notice it.”

 

“Oh god, is this going to be a curse in every waking minute of my life?” She asked with a chuckle, lightening the weight of the inquiry.

 

“It won’t be a curse if you’re living in line with how you would like to be. And based on that question I’m assuming you don’t think you are.”

 

“Well shit. You’re right. Hmm. So, why did you stop being a clown?”

 

“Ha, back to this are we?” Erin leaned her elbows on the table, obviously interested in what Holtz was soon to share.   
  
“Did you ever get any bizarre requests? I imagine there’s got to be some creepy clown fetishes out there. Like all the hype around Pennywise however many years ago.”

 

“Ms. Gilbert, are you speaking from experience or from deep-diving on craigslist?”

 

The joke was enough to get her face to heat up.

 

She cleared her throat. “Khm, neither.”

 

“I know, I’m just  _ clowning around.” _

 

“You didn’t.”

 

“I did.”

 

“So no Pennywise requests?”

 

“Only for a couple halloween parties. It was actually pretty dope, until people get too high or drunk and think you’re legitimately trying to kill them.”

 

“No thanks. I don’t handle scary things well at all.”

 

“Part of me is really tempted by that, but I respect you too much to play games.”

 

“I’m flattered.” Her tone was flat and sarcastic.

 

“But really, the worst part of being a clown was dealing with the parents. They would either sit from afar and look disappointed in me or hand off crying children to me and tell me it was my job to keep the party happy. Or one time, the parents told me I wasn’t allowed to juggle on my unicycle indoors- even though, mind you, I’m a professional at this point. Haven’t broken a single thing- but it was raining outside, so they asked me to deduct that from the price. It’s a  _ package deal.  _ It was rude, but they kept bitching so I gave them a discount and stole a slice of pizza and a couple cupcakes when I left.”

 

Their eyes met as Holtzmann realized she was getting side tracked.

 

“Not that I condone stealing… or vengeance. This was years ago.” That got a chuckle.

 

“Man, I can’t even imagine what my parents response would have been if I would have told them I was a party clown. They would have lost their minds.”

 

“Did you ever consider doing anything else?”

 

“Not realistically. I think being in a band that records movie scores would be super fun, but I was never good enough in band for that. Oh, I took Intro to Acting 101 as an Arts and Humanities elective as an undergrad. I thought it was fun and relaxing, but when I mentioned to my parents that I was considering another one as a fun, destresser class the next semester, they threw a fit. They threatened to stop paying tuition. So that never happened.”

 

“No offense Erin, but your family sounds awful.”

 

“Well, they’re not ideal. But they were also looking out for me. They wanted me to be make a name for us as a scientist. And I don’t mind. I have a good job and I’ve published a lot in the field.”

 

“Mmm. There’s a difference though. Think of it this way: if you’re running a marathon and a friend is running it with you. This friend can either run in front of you and keep stopping, causing you to run into them and slow you down. Or this friend can run next to you and push you to run faster. Both may look like resistance, but only one is looking out for you and trying to make you better.”

 

“Huh. I’ve never heard it put like that. I can see that. So you think the people I surround myself with are more the asshole friends than the real friends? Is that what you’re getting at?”

 

“I wouldn’t use those words. Haha. But no, I’m not trying to say that. Intentions sometimes don’t quite align with actions. I’m sure your parents really did want the best for you. I’m just not sure they fully understood that what’s best for you isn’t necessarily a high-end job; it’s enjoying your time and yourself.”

 

“Yeah, they mean well. They really do. It’s just sometimes it doesn’t look like that. Considering the things I’ve shared with you, they really do sound horrible. But I’ve also been very selectively sharing. They’re tolerable. They really aren’t that bad.”

 

“Oh I know. It’s just easier to spend time with people like that when you can distinguish between their intentions and their words. And that who you are isn’t defined by who they think you should be. You’re self-aware; you know all this.”

 

“Again, understanding vs implementing. Definitely good stuff to keep in mind around the holidays if I decide to go home and get lectured about ‘letting a good guy go.’”

 

“Well if you and Jameson need a place for the holidays, you’re welcome to my home. I host an annual Friendsgiving with a couple friends. One actually studies physics as well, and the other is in humanities, so I’m sure you’d get along with both of them great.”

 

“Oh thank you. That’s very sweet. But you know what would make that offer impossible to refuse?”

 

“Uhhh, pie?”

 

“A clown.”

 

“Did you go there?”

 

“Where?”

 

“Acting innocent isn’t going to persuade me any more.”

 

“You said it yourself, who wouldn’t want a sad lesbian clown? Plus, I just got divorced.”

 

“Don’t you go trying to manipulate me like that, Gilbert. Plus, I’m not sad any more. Or a clown. ”

 

“I suppose if we have to settle for one of the three, I would also get rid of those two.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“I had a feeling. Anyway, can I say one more thing before this gets too out of hand?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“With all seriousness, Erin. You decided to bring Jameson to me after you and Phil got divorced and after you moved out. His problems arose after that, which is normal. Children experience stress when there’s a big change in the family dynamic. However, he’s handling everything and adjusting remarkably.”

 

“Okay, are you saying he doesn’t need to see you?”

 

“My concern is that you’re finding the similarities in personality between him and Phil and possibly projecting your bitterness towards Phil and even your own self-criticisms onto your son.”

 

“Wow.” She sat back and folded her arms, making herself much less open.

 

“And I hesitated bringing this up because the last thing I want you to think is that I’m attacking you. This might not be the case. I just want you to keep it in mind to see if you notice anything yourself.”

 

She looked around, exploring the past few months of memories before speaking up. “No, I think you’re right.” Her eyes filled with tears as she realized her faults. “How do I stop doing that?”

 

“Erin, it’s okay. You’re not consciously doing it. You’ve also been emotionally torn down for a long time.”

 

“What do I do?”

 

“I would recommend seeking out things that make Jameson unique and focusing on his individual strengths. And as his mother, you have huge influence on how his characteristics are shaped. You can even find faults in Phil that can be shifted into more positive attributes in Jameson when he grows up.”

 

“Okay, so Phil is a stubborn and entitled.”

 

“And how could parts of that be positive?”

 

“Holding strong beliefs for things that matter and giving a voice to those that don’t have it.”

 

“Exactly. You’re a wonderful mother. The world needs more parents like you. What else can you think of right off the bat?”

 

“Well, Jameson has a good sense of humor. Phil is also witty.” She wiped the remaining tear out of her eye and felt her face cooling down.

 

“Yeah? That’s good!”

 

“This is actually funny. Phil really wanted to name him Jameson because then his name would me Jameson Hudson and he could just call him ‘son.’ Also because it’s Irish whiskey and his family origin was Irish. That’s not quite as braggable though.”

 

“Son ‘son ‘son. That is pretty great. Anyway, what do you say we get out of here?”

 

“Sure, where to?”

 

“Well, I did ask you out to brunch and then only gave you caffeine and sugar. There’s a phenomenal taco truck that’s down by the farmers market?”

 

“I’d like that. And thank you. For all of this. Your listening and patience and understanding me.”

 

“My pleasure.” She held her hand out to help the other woman to her feet and was pretty confident (aka hopeful) she would in fact have a date to Friendsgiving.


	4. Happy Friendsgiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erin takes up Holtz's offer on joining her for Friendsgiving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, maybe a little late for Thanksgiving but here we are. I had fun writing a follow up! Enjoy!

“Hey! Come on in.” Holtzmann opened the door to her apartment and stepped out of the way, reaching out to take the bottle of wine and a couple bags of groceries being extended to her. She put them down on the counter promptly before returning to Erin to take her jacket from her as she slid her shoes off and helped her son out of his boots.

 

“Hi Dr. Holtzmann!” Jameson had the biggest, toothiest smile on his face as he greeted his therapist. As soon as he was free out of his boots, he rushed over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

 

“Hey buddy! Man, it must be cold out there judging from how pink your nose is!” She booped him on the nose for emphasis. “How about some hot chocolate?”

 

“Yes!!”

 

As soon as he let go of her in excitement for sugar, Erin stepped into the other woman’s open arms. It seemed appropriate after James had embraced her so freely. She could feel the smaller woman’s breasts right below hers, suddenly becoming hyper aware of her own femininity.

 

“Wow, your place is so cozy. Thanks again for the invite.” Her entire persona was warm and validating so there should have been no surprise at how comforting being near to her physically would be.

 

“You’re welcome anytime.”

 

They made their way to the kitchen, where Holtz heated up almond milk on the stove, melting chocolate chips into it. She topped it off with some cool whip before pouring it into a mug for the child.

 

“And for us, I say we crack open this bad boy,” she said gesturing to the bottle of red Erin had brought.

 

“Sure thing! But no guarantees. I’ve never had this kind- I just got it because that’s what the person right in front of me got and figured that was close enough to your method.”

 

“Well, only one way to find out.” She poured a glass for each of them, which they cheered before both looking displeased with the first sip.

 

“Wow. That sure is… dry.” They couldn’t help but laugh at the misfortune together.

 

“You know, maybe the person in front of you got this as cooking wine because I cannot imagine anybody in their right mind enjoying this by itself.”

 

“Oh! Do you have any Vernors?”

 

“What the hell is that?” She chuckled at her word choice after glancing at James, back at Erin, and covering her mouth.

 

“Of course not, duh. I forget it’s only a Michigan thing. It’s a type of ginger ale pop that I used to mix with bad wine to make it tolerable.”

 

“Oh, that’s a good idea. However, we are still in New York. Plus, I don’t drink  _ soda,” _ she made sure to emphasize that last word to lightly mock Erin’s midwesterness.

 

“Psh.”

 

“Mom, when are we going to eat food?” Her son asked from the bar stool behind the counter, a little confused at the energy between the adult’s exchange.

 

She looked at Holtz, only now realizing the other guests weren’t here yet. “Um, well honey, I’m not sure when the other guests are getting here. But Miss Jillian and I are going to start cooking right now.”

 

“How about a movie? Or I’ve got loads of Lego’s if you want to build some rad contraption. Or do you like brain teaser puzzles? I’ve got a few of those too.” She half rambled to herself, loud enough for him to hear as she pulled things off the shelves and put them onto the coffee table in the living room.

 

She put on a movie for him, whether or not he was actually watching it was any one’s guess considering how engrossed he was in figuring out how to put together a wooden puzzle.

 

“So what time are we expecting the others?”

 

The way she said we instead of you stood out to the psychologist, affirming her choice to invite Erin over earlier to make her feel more at home before the others arrived.

 

She glanced at her watch before responding, “Honestly, I have no idea. They show up unannounced all the time, but I think I told them to get here about half hour, 40 minutes from now? Ish?”

 

“Okay, then I guess we should get to it. What are we making?”

 

“Good question, what sounds good?”

 

That answer took her off guard. “Wait, are you kidding? You gave me a list of very specific things to get and you don’t know what we’re making?”

 

Although the words may have seemed to give off an irritated vibe, she didn’t mean it like that. She was just dumbfounded at the idea.

 

“Haha, I guess you don’t know me much outside my professional life. This is the norm. Plus, I only gave you a list because you insisted on bringing something and I assumed we could figure it out together.”

 

She emptied the contents of the bags onto her counter, along with stuff from her fridge before grouping ingredients together a few at a time, rearranging them as she listed more options.

 

“Okay well we could do stir fry and saute all these vegetables with rice. Or some sort of soup by pureeing the potatoes and squash. Or any type of casserole you could think of. Or any type of pasta with veggies on the side. Or really, we could just say fuck it and order a couple pizzas.”

 

“Haha, no we’re not going to order pizza. Okay, well we have lots of potatoes, so let’s start there.”

 

They decided on mashing the potatoes and mixing it with sauteed vegetables and frying them into little potato patties.

 

As she made her way to the stove top to get water boiling as Erin chopped the potatoes, she exclaimed, “I have a brilliant idea.”

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

She poured the remaining hot chocolate in each of their glasses, mixing it with the dreadfully bitter wine.

 

“I saw this on the internet once, but have never tried it.”

 

“Mmmmm. Wow, that is delightful.” She basically moaned into her glass. Holtzmann had to agree, not only with the taste of her new concoction, but with Erin’s response.

 

“Oh, speaking of weird food things, look what I have!” She pulled out a tupperware filled with water out of her fridge, opening it to reveal soaked cashews.

 

“Wet cashews?”

 

“Okay, this may be another thing I haven’t personally tried, but I’ve heard good things about.”

 

“Those are wet cashews.”

 

“Yes, and apparently if you blend them and add some other shit to it, it’s like a magical vegan cream cheese. Although, as a fair warning, shredded vegan cheese usually smells like farts and doesn’t really melt.”

 

“Mom! Check it out! I got it!!” Jameson frollicked into the room with the puzzle, complete in some 3d geometric shape.

 

“Wow, awesome job! You are so smart!” She was actually pretty impressed. It didn’t look like an easy puzzle, and those kinds of things stressed her out.

 

“High five, dude! You were working hard on that thing, huh?”

 

“Yeah! I’m going to go do another one!” He scampered off, back into the other room.

 

“Not to be that person, and please Erin, if I’m ever overstepping boundaries, please please tell me.”

 

“What? Parenting advice?”

 

“Ugh, don’t put it like that. You know I think you’re an incredible mother.”

 

“No, it’s fine. I don’t take it like that, really. What were you going to say?”

 

“Well, there was a study,” she looked up at Erin under her eyelashes, maybe a little embarrassed from bringing this up, “about attribution. And they had these kids take math tests. When they did well, the children who were told they did well because they were smart were discouraged later on when they tried more difficult tests and didn’t do as well. The children who were told they did well because they tried hard were more likely to keep trying, because they attributed their success, and failure for that matter, to the time and effort they spent on it rather than believing they personally could or couldn’t.”

 

“That actually makes a lot of sense.” Erin replayed her parent’s parenting style throughout her upbringing in her head. “My parents always told me I did well because I was smart. It took a lot of relearning how to learn when I got to college and struggled. I felt so stupid because it no longer came naturally.”

 

“And look at you now. You’re beyond successful because you kept trying and probably spent countless hours on those equations.”

 

“Spent. Spend. Yep.”

 

“And understanding that how well you did was a variable you had the ability to change made all the difference.”

 

“For sure. Thanks for the reminder.”

 

“Yeah, I’m a details person. But truly, feel free to call me out on it.”

 

“Haha, okay. Don’t worry about it. I like learning things. Now back to this fake cheese. Are you vegan?”

 

“No… not really, but kind of. I guess I’d say I’m vegan conscious. I am vegetarian though. Well, pescatarian, depending on the day.”

 

“Well, I’m down to try it if you are.”

 

“Yes! I knew I liked you, Gilbert.”

 

They continued their experimental cooking for a while, along with more ‘red velvet’ drink as they agreed to name it, occasionally checking in with James to make sure he wasn’t bored.

 

He eventually joined them in the kitchen wanting to help, overjoyed when Holtz let him mix the potatoes and veggies with his hands.

 

It wasn’t too much later when they heard the door open and two other women walked in together. If Erin had to describe them based on first impressions, the first woman who walked in would be a personified hug, and the taller woman a  literal ray of sunshine.

 

Instead of shaking hands to introduce themselves, they both pulled her into a quick hug. Erin knew the three of them were a family already, based on how at home they were in this space. They were both very hospitable towards her, but not too obvious to show a hint of their concern with Holtz befriending (and crushing on, let’s be real) a client.

 

“Oh my goodness, you are having way too much fun with that, aren’t ya kiddo?” Patty turned her attention to the youngster in the room.

 

“This is Jameson. Jameson, will you say hi to Miss…” she waited for the other ladies to announce their last names.

 

“Abby, just call me Abby. Titles aren’t really my thing.”

 

“And you can call me Patty, Aunt Patty, Goddess. Any of those.”

 

Abby chuckled as she elbowed her, “Don’t ruin the poor kid. Call her Patty, ignore the rest. What in the heavens do you have your hands in there?”

 

The smile on Jameson’s face matched that on his mother’s. He was flattered to be the center of attention with these pretty ladies, where Erin was content with how they immediately treated him as one of their own.

 

“Ohmygosh!” Her intensity startled everyone in the room. “Try this!!” She handed her glass to Patty first, as Abby was still making snarky comments to James.

 

“Holy sweet baby Jesus.” Patty melted after a sip of ‘red velvet.’ “No offense if y’all are Christian. Abby.” She spoke her name boldly, and offered her Holtz’s glass.

 

“Yes. Sign me up. Pour me a glass of that!”

 

“Can I try it?” They had peaked the curiosity of the minor.

 

“Sorry, honey. This has adult juice in it.”

 

The rejected look on his face was quickly attended when Holtz dug through her spice cupboard and pulled out food coloring. “But you know what we  _ can  _ do? We can make your hot chocolate any color you want!”

 

“Really??”

 

“Sure thing, bud!”

 

He wanted red, just like theirs so he could show how mature and grown up he is.

 

Holtz squeezed the little bottle above his mug, drop by drop while muttering under her breath, “and we’re just not going to mention that this is made from tiny… little… bugs.”

 

“Bugs?” A mother’s concern mixed with her anxiety wouldn’t allow Erin to not question this.

 

“I said we’re  _ not  _ going to mention it. There ya go buddy.” She swirled the spoon around in the cup and licked it off, tossing it in the sink.

 

James looked between this seemingly insane person and his mother, not quite sure if he should drink it.

 

“God, Holtz, you can’t just say something like that and not explain it,” Abby rolled her eyes.

 

“Fine. Yeah you right. So apparently red food dye is made from these tiny tiny bugs.” Before she was done talking, she had an article pulled up on her phone which she passed to Erin.

 

“Huh, that’s… neat I guess. Kind of disgusting, but neat.”

 

“...bugs?” James had wide eyes.

 

“Listen man, if you don’t want it now, that’s completely--”

 

“AWESOME! I’m drinking bugs!!”

 

“And that is what they mean by ‘boys will be boys.’” Patty interjected with enough disappointment in current events shining through the inflection in her voice.

 

The five of them snacked on the cheese dip with crackers as Holtz fried the potatoes. The other two women must have had a plan before walking in or were really good at improvising because they went to town putting together more side dishes with the remaining ingredients.

 

Erin set the table as James built a rocket ship with legos. He finished his masterpiece and showed it to his mom and Holtzmann first as they set the food on the table, family style.

 

They told him it was lovely as Patty whispered to Abby in the kitchen, “Oh hell no. That thing is phallic as fuck!” Holtz shot her a look, letting her know that even if she thinks she’s being quiet her voice carries. Luckily, Erin and Jameson remained oblivious to the comment.

 

They sat down and had just started eating when Erin got a phone call.

 

“Ugh, I should get this.” She got up and walked into the other room, which really didn’t do much considering the open layout of the apartment.

 

Patty, Abby, and Holtz exchanged glances as they overheard Erin from the other room, “Phil. We agreed on 6:30. It’s not even six yet. We just sat down to eat. You can pick him up at 6:30. Just like we agreed.” It was clear she was talking to him like he was a child, emphasizing and reiterating her points.

 

She sat back down at her meal, apologizing for the interruption.

 

“Was that dad?” James inquired, probably with too much steamed broccoli in his mouth at the time.

 

“Yeah, it was sweetie. He’s going to pick you up after we’re done eating and take you to Grammy and Gramps with him.”

 

“Aw, man. But I’m having fun here! Do I have to go?” The honesty from the kid melted every heart in the room.

 

“I’m sorry, James. I wish you could stay too, but Grammy and Gramps really want to see you. I bet Gramma Hudson made some of her famous pumpkin pie.”

 

It was apparent that cheered him up a little, but he was still sad about having to leave.

 

They made small talk the rest of dinner, Erin and Abby clicking fast talking about their work. Even though Erin works in the theoretical side and Abby works in the experimental side, they carry on a conversation, able to relate what they mean in the other’s dialect. They work together to explain the practical side of what they are talking about to the other two.

 

It doesn’t seem like much time has passed at all when Phil calls Erin again, asking her to walk their son out to the car. When she returns inside, she is upset that Phil had to complicate custody on that day, but also semi-relieved that now the adults can more openly talk now- and hoping that they might become her friends too, instead of just potential friends.

 

“I’m sorry, Erin. He’s probably frazzled because he can no longer control you and is threatened by your independence. But he’s being a dick regardless.”

 

“Girl, his ass don’t deserve you. You need someone to treat you as the queen you are.”

 

“Thanks Patty.”

 

She feels like she should say more. These people don’t even know her and have been showing her support relentlessly all night. She thinks back to a  [ TED talk on vulnerability ](https://www.ted.com/talks/brene_brown_on_vulnerability) she watched recently, and gets the courage to delve deeper into who she is in order to connect with the women around her.

 

“I don’t know how I stayed in that relationship for so long. It was toxic. And now, looking back on it, there were so many red flags.”

 

“Hindsight is 20/20.” Abby said, with a soft expression on her face. Erin feels like if she was close enough to reach, Abby would have touched her arm or held her hand.

 

She continued when she noticed the attention was still on her, patient but anticipatory.

 

“I guess a lot of the reason I never did anything about it was because I thought it was normal.”

 

“You’d be surprised how common that is.” Reassurance.

 

“Growing up, my parents constantly bickered. I often wondered if they even loved each other or if they were just too stubborn with their reputations to get a divorce. So the lack of chemistry I’ve felt for the past decade or so was just ingrained in my view of relationships.”

 

“God, I’m so glad I’m not straight.” Not to make it about herself, but damn it was true.

 

“I guess that could be another part of it.” Holtzmann was not expecting that. None of them were- not even Erin, until it came out of her mouth and hit her ears with a heavy weight. “I feel like even though my parents didn’t have the patience with each other, I could tell that in their earlier years, when it was fresh, that they were probably hopelessly in love. I think more than anything, with Phil, it was a matter of security and being in love with the idea of being in love.”

 

Holtzmann’s eyes were wide. She was afraid her lack of blinking might be too intense, but couldn’t bring herself to break her focus.

 

“And marrying Phil was probably just as much for my parents as it was for me. I just wanted their approval and for them to believe in me.”

 

Bombshell. Do we dig into the parents thing or the possibly gay thing? Parents can be postponed. “Wait, so do you think that was just Phil’s uptight, entitled, controlling personality… or is it because he’s a man?”

 

“Honestly, I have no idea. Since the divorce, I’ve been confused more than other emotions people probably normally feel. I don’t know if I just want to be around women because I feel empowered and supported by them, especially considering the lack of women in my field. Abby, I’m sure you relate.”

 

“Ha. Yeah, I feel. However, I got lucky enough to have a lab way down the grungy hall, so nobody comes to visit unless they’re intentional about my work. Plus, I’m not sure if the dean of my college even knows who I am.”

 

“So yeah, I’m not sure if it’s my desire for a sense of community or if it’s more than that.”

 

“Well there’s definitely no pressure to have it all figured out right now. You’ve gotta find a way to embrace the uncertainty and just let life happen without the fear of the unknown gripping your emotions.”

 

“Holtzy, how did you know?”

 

“What?” Hearing her name broke her out of her fixation on her potentially gay  _ friend. _

 

“How did you know you were gay?”

 

“Whew. Oh boy. Should I go get my journals from middle school and just read those?”

 

“You knew it middle school?? I’m in my forties.” Her insecurities in not knowing herself surfaced.

 

“We’ve lived different lives Erin. Our experiences have been subjective.”

 

She fiddled with her used utensils until she realized she was doing so. Her hands moved to her lap where she picked at her cuticles.

 

“I grew up in New York, surrounded by liberal, accepting people. My parents always encouraged me to be myself more than confining me to the norms. I was exposed to queer people all through my childhood, so when I didn’t feel attraction to boys my age I had a people to relate to. The only source of shame I got about being different was from mainstream media and ignorant politicians.”

 

As she listened to the other woman’s story, she countered every sentence with her own experiences.

 

“I knew there was not a chance my parents would disown me or make me feel guilty for who I am. I was very lucky to be raised in that environment, but I know that is not standard for queer kids. There was never any shame in being different or expressing ourselves. It was all a part of our beings and what it means to be human.”

 

“I have only recently learned how to identify and feel emotions, so that’s a mess.” She said it with a chuckle, but her words were real.

 

“And you can’t hold that responsibility. You were raised conservatively, probably in an environment where intellect was regarded higher than emotions. Where crying is seen as a weakness. Where free-thinking people are seen as feeble and passion is seen as trivial. But passion, self acceptance, and vulnerability are driving forces behind human expression and connection. They should be embraced, not evaded. To put the core of ourselves on the back burner is to watch our lives pass us by.”

 

“Okay, Eros. Take a breath.” Not that she didn’t love listening to Holtz philosophize, but Patty needed to ground her before she floated away into her headspace.

 

“Where did you grow up, Erin?”

 

“Small town in Michigan. One of the swinger states, but that’s only because of the big cities. Everything besides Ann Arbor and Grand Rapids is kind of a nightmare.”

 

“No way! I grew up in Michigan too! Mid-Michigan, Okemos area.” She knew Abby felt homey. “But I never had to deal with coming out to myself or to my family. Well not really. I guess my parents were somewhere in between both of yours,” she said gesturing with a point, her elbows leaned on the table in front of her, “I definitely grew up privileged, white, upper middle class in an upper middle class neighborhood. I never wanted to date boys, but they never pressured me to either.”

 

“I thought you said you didn’t have to come out to them?”

 

“I didn’t. I don’t really want to date women either. I mean I guess I don’t really know if I want to date  _ anyone _ . I’m basically married to my career, haha. I don’t really care to have a partner. And maybe eventually I will, but for now I’m good.”

 

“You love physics that much?”

 

“Oh of course! I think the only thing I love more than studying the paranormal unknown is wonton soup- with the  _ appropriate  _ portion of wontons to broth.”

 

“Oh good god, please don’t get started on the damn soup.” Patty rolled her eyes, not ready for the shift of conversation to Abby’s love for soup.

 

“Wow. Man, is my life just some mediocre joke?”

 

“You don’t enjoy your career?”

 

“Well, I don’t mind it. I love to learn, but I think that’s part of my problem. I have the need to follow a path and make decisions, but every time I learn about something new, I feel some level of guilt of ‘that’s what I should have done.’ Does that make sense?”

 

“Oh, baby I feel you. I love my job now researching in the humanities, but before this I worked at the MTA and had a lot of down time. I watched so many TED talks, listened to so many podcasts and interviews, browsed Wikipedia like my life depended on it. I went through my google search history with my therapist,” she waved a hand towards Holtz, “and we found a common theme under my interests which led me to where I am now.” She turned her eyes to the psychologist, “Thanks babe.”

 

“Anytime, love.”

 

Are these pet names just a thing these people do?

 

“And really, I think that’s just a side of researchers that we all have in common. We just like to learn. Even though I have my niche in physics doesn’t mean it takes away from my appreciation of other subjects as well.”

 

“But you never question your career path?”

 

“Um, I wouldn’t say that. But it’s usually fleeting. The way I balance it is by reminding myself that: I’m good at what I do; I feel at home when I’m doing my work; I think about it when I’m not doing it; I know that if I had a different career path, I would be doing things like this in my free time.”

 

“Huh. Those are good indicators.”

 

“Do you feel like there’s a dissonance in your hobbies and what you do at work?”

 

“Well, I’m not sure. I mean there’s definitely aspects of myself that can be applied in different areas.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Okay, if you break down what I do at work into its foundation, you would get: reading, idea generating, analysis, and writing. Along with a whole lot of math. But if you mixed those with, let’s say people instead of math, you would get therapy,” she gestured to Holtz, “or anthropology,” gesturing towards Patty, “or if you mixed it with policy, you would get journalism or politics. You know?”

 

“Oh I completely get what you mean. I actually started out college in engineering. And then I realized that engineering and counseling have similar basis: Engineering is figuring out how and why machines work; psychology is figuring out how and why people work. The difference is you’re given a whole lot more information in engineering and it’s a lot more straight-forward. And I think we’ve already established I don’t do straight.”

 

“There it is.” Abby chuckled and Patty gave her a sarcastic look, having heard that joke too many times.

 

“Plus, I was drawn to the uncertainty that people have about them. Machines are predictable. People are not.”

 

“Hmm, well the reason I started out in physics was because I excelled in math and science in high school and my parents told me that would be a solid career path. I learned to like it, but if I were to have made the decision for myself I probably would have chosen something else.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“I love writing.”

 

“Fiction, non fiction, theory?”

 

“Yes. Just the idea of communicating and reaching people without having to sit down with them.” She realized how harsh her comment was. “Oh not like that! I like you guys. I just don’t want to be forced to interact with people as a job, you know?”

 

“Haha, yes. We get it. That’s why we do research.” Patty said, pointing between herself and Abby.

 

“Do you ever consider jumping careers?”

 

“Oh for sure. But then I feel guilt of ‘why would I do that when I can do physics and leave something behind’ but that is silly, isn’t it?”

 

“I wouldn’t say it’s silly. It sounds like maybe an unnecessary justification, but there’s always something behind that. It kind of goes back to our last conversation about how you want to be remembered.”

 

“Yeah, I suppose. And I think about names like Einstein and Newton and Elon Musk and Darwin, and I think about how much they gave the world through their work. Maybe it’s pretty conceited to even somewhat compare myself to them, but in my work I’m making discoveries that could allow for break through- whether or not it’s actually me. I feel like I owe the world my life. And even if I wanted to explore more creative writing, I have the mindset of ‘why would I spend time writing for a point less blog when I could be publishing journal articles.’”

 

“Baby, you’re putting a lot of pressure on yourself. I can’t imagine how stressful your life is.”

 

“Well first things first: you don’t owe anyone anything. You don’t owe anybody a goddamn thing. You don’t owe Phil an explanation. You don’t owe your parents a solid career path. But you do owe yourself enough to be true to yourself and explore your interests if you don’t feel fulfilled.”

 

“Also, Einstein was a fucking asshole. Yeah, he was brilliant, but I doubt he was happy. There’s a heartbreaking quote from his son, something along the lines of ‘the only thing he ever gave up on was me’ and I don’t think that’s the kind of life you want.” Abby, although absorbed by her work, also knew that it can’t come from a place of anything but curiosity and inspiration.

 

“I know, I know. It’s just a matter of believing that. I have this fear that I’m going to become comfortable with where I am, and then die insignificant.”

 

“As someone who studies history, anthro, and networks of people in general, I have an analogy for this. I feel like we all go through a point in our early adolescent years where we think about how trivial our life may seem in a world of 7 billion people, on a speck of a planet in infinite space. Anyway, if you value 1 out of 7 billion, it’s going to look like zero. However, when you think about the number of people you interact with on a regular basis, you get somewhere probably between 10 and 20. So if you look at 1 out of 10, that’s 10% which is a hell of a lot more than 0%. To those people, you are a huge portion of their life. It all depends on how you scale your circle.”

 

“And going off that, if you try to spread yourself across all 7 billion to make an impact, that’s not realistic whatsoever. But if you focus on investing and maintaining those close to you, you do have a sizeable impact.”

 

“I guess I have some belief that if I work hard now, I can do what I want later. But it’s always some idea of the future. What if my ability for delayed gratification just prolongs my happiness?” As heavy as the thought was, it was spoken in a lighthearted way.

 

“Plus, if you always focus so much on the future, you’ll forget to live in the moment and you’ll miss opportunities right in front of you.” The glint in Holtz’s eyes would have been enough to see across the room.

 

As their conversation simmered down, Erin couldn’t help but be filled with joy and her new support system. They were her friends now, and she had noticed how each one had a certain mindfulness in the conversation. It was obvious they were paying attention and not thinking of other things in the silence (besides the brief loss of Abby to her fantasies of soup). She felt important. She felt valued. She felt validated.

 

They packaged up leftovers and washed dishes together, drinking more to maintain their level of content and warmth. The three guests remained for a few more hours, just enjoying each others company. It was so easy in their presence.

 

When they finally headed out they all embraced each other, one by one, telling each other they loved each other and telling Erin how nice it was to meet her. It was weird to think about how they really had met that day and that they hadn’t friends for years. It was the exact type of empowerment Erin didn’t know she was longing for.

  
  
  



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